


Two Can Play

by MmeSatan



Series: Surveillance [2]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Fluff, Soft Papa Emeritus II, Someone does get off but no smut in this one, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 10:39:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17723609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MmeSatan/pseuds/MmeSatan
Summary: She is gentle and kind, but not innocent, and definitely not above revenge.





	Two Can Play

  

  Papa was sitting at his desk, reading his mail. She was sitting on his lap, her head leaning on his shoulder. He was sorting and reading letters using only his right hand, the left busy under her shirt, where his thumb was gently rubbing circles on the skin of her back. He was humming as he worked, and she listened. She recognized his own music, of course, but there were also songs she did not know -- new material, perhaps, though this was not the time to ask. For now, she was content to sit there and let him fidget with her. Later, he would give her his undivided attention.

 

    They had been sitting there for some time when someone knocked on the door, breaking the moment. With an annoyed sigh, Papa removed his hand from her back and spoke. “Come in.” A Ghoul opened the door and took a single step in. “What is the matter?” The tall creature spoke in a clear voice. “We have retrieved the item, Papa. It was precisely where you had said it would be.” Papa smirked. “Of course it was.” He held out a hand and the Ghoul stepped forward to put a small parcel in it. “Well done, Omega,” he said, placing it on the desk. “You may leave now.” Omega bowed and walked out with a slow, assured pace, shutting the door behind him.

 

    Papa laughed, his hand returning under her shirt. The other took a key from his pocket and opened a drawer, in which he carefully placed the parcel. “This imbecile thought he was clever, waiting until I was away to sneak in and steal it,” he whispered to himself. He locked the drawer and returned the key to its place, the fingers of his left hand now drumming absently on her waist. “He will deny everything of course, but I have it all on camera.” He laughed again, and went back to his mail.

 

    She stayed still on his lap, a single raised eyebrow showing that she had been paying attention. On camera? What did he mean by that?

  


\----------------------

 

   

    She did some investigating. Over a year ago, before she and Papa became… whatever they were, a Brother of Sin had been spending a lot of time with him over a period of two to three weeks. The rumors were not clear on the nature of their relationship, but everyone agreed that he had been sent to another location the Church had in Ireland. The Brother in question was a computer technician.

 

    She had carefully observed Papa’s rooms while she spent time there with him. The cameras were very, very well hidden, but you could see them if you knew what to look for. There were at least two per room, covering multiple angles. There was also what looked like motion sensors near the doors, discreet but definitely there.

 

    One of the bathroom cameras had a perfect view of the bathtub.

 

    She was not surprised. She knew he liked to watch her, and that he was a bit of a control freak when it came to security. She was not angry either, not really. She probably should have been angry to have been filmed without her knowledge, but anger did not come easy to her. No, she was rather… disappointed, in a way. She had found, in the months she had spent by his side, that she loved when Papa watched her. It made her feel special -- turned her on, too, when the mood was right. She had thought of him every minute she spent in his suite when he was away, and to know he was watching (if he truly was) would have been such a thrill. But as devoted to him as she was, she did want to get back to him for keeping that secret, and she knew exactly how to.

  


\----------------------

  


    Papa felt a wave of relief when he saw the familiar notification on his phone. _Finally._ He had been on tour for over a week already, during which she had not taken a single bath. It had not worried him (he did not worry), but she was a creature of habits and he couldn’t help but notice when she broke her routine.

 

    He had also missed observing her like that.

 

    He quickly grabbed his usual setup -- a bottle of red wine and his laptop -- and settled in a comfortable armchair. She was just entering the bathroom, turning the lights on. He noticed that the bag she had brought with her was slightly bigger than usual. Out of it, she took several candles that she placed around the tub, and a small bottle containing a shimmery liquid. She opened the tap and poured some of the bottle’s content in the falling water -- bubble bath. As she bent down to test the water, one foot in the air for balance, Papa noticed her shoes. They were wrong. She knew exactly how he expected her to dress in any given circumstances, yet there she was, wearing a sensible but flattering charcoal dress with pumps instead of her everyday shoes -- black pumps, with a red sole. He frowned. Had she been wearing those around the church all day? Surely she would never do that.

 

    The bathtub filled, she removed her dress and placed it on a nearby chair. Papa couldn’t believe his eyes. Underneath the dress was a very expensive set of red lingerie, complete with garter belt and stockings. She looked devastatingly beautiful, so much that he suddenly had to loosen his collar. But there was also anger rising in his chest as he watched her light the candles. She was gorgeous, bending over in sheer lace and high heels, but these were things she should only have been wearing for him -- he had made it very clear to her from the very beginning.

 

    What in Satan’s name was she doing? Did she not care about their arrangement? Did she not care about him? Was she seeing someone else? Who was it? He was fuming. How dare she betray him like that? And to think that he had… that he felt… that he was… He caught himself about to throw his wine glass to the floor, fist clenched on it so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. He could not remember ever being this angry about a woman. _That’s what you get for caring about people. They betray you._ His ego was wounded and he almost shut off his computer, but could not bring himself to.

 

    So he kept watching as she put away the matches and turned off the lights. She sat on the edge of the tub, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, and lifted her eyes toward the camera with a shy smile. Was she aware…? No, she couldn’t be. But she was staring directly at it, wasn’t she? She blushed and bit her bottom lip before turning away. Papa had noticed something else in her eyes: thrill. He had seen that look on her face before -- the first time she had undressed for him; again, when he had asked her to undress him; more recently, when he requested that she she sleeps in his bed every night. It was a look she gave him and only him. He relaxed at that thought.

 

    His thoughts shifted as he gazed on her body. The red lace looked even brighter against her skin in the candlelight. Seeing that skin, always so soft and supple under his touch, made his mouth dry. He took a sip of his wine, eyes still fixed on the screen, where he could now see her removing her shoes and placing them aside carefully. Her fingers then unclipped the garters before sliding under the black nylon of her stockings, easing them down slowly, teasingly. Papa could feel in his own fingers the urge to follow that path. He had seen her naked countless times, had undressed her himself many of those, but seeing more of her body slowly being exposed was just as magnetic as it was the first time. She was undressing like she was being being watched, more of a tease than she ever was in his presence. Had he been there he would not have let her finish -- but tonight he had no choice, did he?

 

    She was in the water now. He could not see much of her, between the dim light and the thick layer of bubbles covering the tub, but he knew her form well enough to imagine what he couldn’t see. She was relaxed, head resting back and eyes closed, singing softly. This at last was familiar territory and the last of his anger was melting. He could watch her like this for hours, as he had so many times before.

 

_I miss you, tesoro._

   

Long minutes passed before he noticed changes to the scene before him. At first, it was a slight movement in her right shoulder, and below the water. But the motion increased, as did the intensity of her breathing. _Is she…?_ Papa’s mind went blank. Through the fading bubbles, he could now see that her hand was indeed between her legs. _She is._ _Fuck._ He had never explicitly forbidden that she masturbates when he was away, but only because in his mind her sexuality was so tied to him that he had not even entertained that possibility. Yet there she was, getting pleasure from hands that were not his. He was unsure how to process that, let alone how to react. _Fuck._

 

She moved to the other side of the tub, kneeling, still facing the camera. Papa knew what was there. Sure enough, she turned on the water jets. One of them would be located right below her in that position. He smirked. What a naughty girl she was… He watched her, head thrown back, biting her lip. She turned up the power of the jets, a moan escaping her lips at the heightened sensation. Fuck, she was beautiful like that. Her back arched and she moaned again, louder. “Papa…” His breath caught. So she _was_ thinking about him after all. His body took it as a cue to react. He never got aroused when he watched her bathe like that. While he had no qualms about watching her without her knowledge, the situation taking a sexual turn felt… wrong -- something his erection clearly did not care about. But he had never seen her like that, getting off without him though thinking about him, and he was not made of stone. Still, he decided to let this… problem die down on its own.

 

Time always seemed to slow down when he watched her. This view he had was so different than when they had sex in that same tub -- physically distant, yet more intimate somehow. He missed her, and in this moment he desperately wanted to hold her, to touch her, to be the reason she was moaning his name. He missed her smell and the taste of her lips, missed hearing her laugh and feeling her breathe. Touring was taking more of a toll on him now than it used to, having to leave her behind. He no longer cared for groupies. He only wanted her.

 

What a lovely vision she was in her orgasm. The way her body tensed, the look on her face, and the sounds she made... Was she always so loud when she came? He wished he had paid more attention before. He would from now on. Her eyes were hazy when she opened them. She looked satisfied, but not quite as pleased as she did when he made her come. He grinned. _You do need me, cara, don’t you?_

 

She left the bathroom after drying herself carefully. He followed her on the camera feed to the bedroom, where she sat on the tall bed, stretching, yawning. She did not put on a dress or robe, this time. Instead, he watched her slide naked between the green silk sheets. Her head rested on her pillow, on her own side of the bed. Papa smiled. She was done with transgressions for the night, it seemed. She stretched again, then opened her eyes and looked straight at the camera. “Good night, Papa. I hope you were watching.” She closed her eyes with a satisfied smile on her lips, the soft light of a single lamp shining on her as sleep took over her body.

 

Papa watched her sleep like he had done countless times. He liked to see her breath slow down, her face relax completely. He liked the way she turned around, searching for him in the bed, and the curve of her silhouette under the thin silk. She took so little space on the bed, curled up on her side. He kept watching and reflected on what had just happened. Despite the anger and frustration he had gone through, one thing had become very clear.

 

She was his, and he would do anything to keep it that way.

  


\----------------------

 

    Two days later, she received a parcel in the mail. It did not have a sender address, but the black envelope and red wax seal confirmed the package’s provenance as soon as she opened it. Inside were carefully wrapped a bottle of bubble bath (lavender, her favourite) and a few candles. She smiled and read the note.

  
  


        _Cara mia,_

 

_I hope you understand that what you did last night was very bad. I will have to punish you for this behaviour when I come back._

 

_Until then, please refrain from such activities. I will allow bathing and only bathing for now._

 

_Do not disappoint me, bella. I will be watching._

 

_Your Papa_

**Author's Note:**

> So this previous one shot of mine is turning into a series because Papa II inspires me too much. I guess it's a good thing?
> 
> I'd like to thank the THOMB gang for their friendship and support, and for keeping me sane while I'm at work. I love you guys.


End file.
